


smoke signals

by badbrains



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Gen, Nogitsune, POV Chris Argent, Scene Rewrite, how the possessed!derek scene should have gone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-12 18:54:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29639100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badbrains/pseuds/badbrains
Summary: His hands fall heavy with the weight of what he has done, but he has never saddled himself with more than he can carry. In a life like this, the guilt will kill you before anything else. So, when he sleeps, he makes sure it is peacefully, without remorse.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	smoke signals

**Author's Note:**

> just a lil rewrite of the scene(s) between chris and derek during s3e22
> 
> so, we all know teen wolf's writing is not .... amazing. i will just say that. i think that it would have been more impactful if the nogitsune kind of ... fed off of derek's pain ? like i think a huge thing surrounding derek as a character is his internalized guilt and grief, so if the nogitsune had possessed him for a moment, it would have definitely made use of that pain (in my opinion). so, because of that, if they had touched more on the fire and kate's involvement, this scene could have been a really good opportunity to begin a redemption arc of sorts for chris. but teen wolf missed the mark, as usual LMAO
> 
> i might turn this into a series if i can think of more things to rewrite. because 3b just gives me a lot of Feelings ok djfhsjkashfjka leave me alone
> 
> anyway here is how it should have gone. no beta or anything bc i live on the edge

Chris, throughout his stint as a Hunter, has always clung to one piece of advice he was given as a kid, a throwaway comment he turned into a lifestyle: _don’t kill more than you are comfortable burying_.

His hands fall heavy with the weight of what he has done, but he has never saddled himself with more than he can carry. In a life like this, the guilt will kill you before anything else. So, when he sleeps, he makes sure it is peacefully, without remorse. 

That being said, he wouldn’t slaughter an innocent family. He’s plunged knives through parents, men who killed recklessly, men who were father-adjacent in Chris’ mind. He’s riddled kids with bullets until they stopped convulsing. Not minors, but werewolves barely off the cusp of jailbait, juvenile for all intents and purposes. Everyone he has killed has come from some semblance of a _family_ , but he has never massacred for the hell of it. If he’d had a hand in what happened to the Hales, he wouldn’t be able to live with himself. He knows his own limits, and his line is drawn far, far before that. 

He spits lighter fluid from where it has dribbled between his lips, his tongue slick and butane-bitter. He squints, blinking hard against where it is beading up in his eyelashes, stinging the surface of his eyes. 

“Derek, listen to me—” he sputters against another mouthful of it, blowing air out of his nostrils until Derek tosses the container aside. He grits his teeth but stays quiet, listens to the empty bottle clatter hollowly against the floorboards. 

Derek clicks his tongue, tutting at Chris like he’s scolding a child. “I don’t think he wants to listen to you. You burned his family, after all. It is almost palpable how badly he wishes to burn yours.”

Chris blinks before futilely straining against the binds once more. “I had _nothing_ to do with that.” He thrashes until he is certain he cannot break free. He falls still, chest heaving while he struggles to breathe though the chemicals burning his throat. He looks Derek - the Nogitsune - in the eyes. “That was _Kate_. I am not your enemy.”

The Nogitsune laughs, mocking and humorless. “That’s cute, really. This is not as binary as friend or foe, Chris.” Another laugh. “Whether you consider yourself an enemy or not, his family is still dead.” Suddenly, the fox’s eyes roll back, eyelids fluttering while it inhales a trembling breath. It bites its lip, fisting its hands in Derek’s pantlegs before releasing a shaky sound. “Oh.” It opens Derek’s eyes, blinking hazily and unfocused at Chris. “He still carries so much _pain_.”

The fox smirks, then. Chris squeezes his eyes shut, preparing himself for what’s coming. He hears it begin walking, trailing slow circles around him. It hums thoughtfully. “Ah, I see. Did you know about what she did?”

He presses his eyes shut harder, wishes he could cover his ears. 

The Nogitsune _tsks_. “He was only sixteen.”

Chris imagines himself anywhere else. 

“Do you want to know what was going for Derek at sixteen, Chris?”

He doesn’t.

“He was third in his class, you know. Quite smart, actually. Plans for university in New York, a real knack for history.”

He opens his eyes and the Nogitsune tilts its head, as though receiving surprising information. It squints. “What a coincidence. Kate liked history, too. But, I’m sure you already knew that, with how you Argents seem to base your traditions off centuries of it.”

“Stop it,” he demands. “I get it. Stop going through his memories.”

A pout pulls at its lips, morphing Derek’s face. “Oh, but that’d ruin all the fun.” It draws in a long breath through its nose, almost moaning, “God, he is just so _miserable._ ”

It crouches, leaning on Derek’s haunches while it fishes for something in his front pocket. Chris feels his heart pick up when he sees what it is. He can tell by how it smiles that the Nogitsune heard it. 

It flicks the lighter on, the flame reflecting across Derek’s eyes. “His sisters called him Der-Bear, isn’t that so cute?” It’s speaking absently, as though the memories are an afterthought while it carefully brings the flicker close, so close, but not yet close enough. “His mother loved him so so much, none of that authoritarian alpha parenting. The camaro was his dad’s. They fixed it up together, how sweet.”

It’s like the fox is rifling through at random, picking small pieces that fit into the bigger picture. Small pieces that feel like monuments of loss. Chris knows how that feels; hearing Victoria’s favorite song, how Allison laughs like her, the way he can’t breathe when he smells strawberries. He looks away, at least granting Derek that privacy. 

The Nogitsune stops, then, brow furrowed. Suddenly, it scoffs a laugh that turns into an eerie wheezing sound. “She told him she _loved_ him. Can you believe that?”

He didn’t know that, but he could have guessed. Kate’s death had hurt him, he wanted to cover Peter’s body in arrows until he could no longer be identified. Chris has always been one for revenge. He didn’t believe it, at first. When the Hale house burned and all leads pointed to Kate, Chris had stood at her side, ready to fight through it until it was over. Because Argents have a _code._ They have a code. 

But, Kate said it like it was nothing. Like she was talking about the mundanity of the weather rather than confessing to murder. She said, flippantly, casually, “Oh, the Hales? I put them down like the dogs they were.”

He remembers the horror, the way he felt sick, how his stomach churned and his face felt hot. He knows that whatever disgust he felt that day did not hold a torch to being sixteen, to being a _child_ and watching your entire family turn to ash. 

Chris swallows. He tries again. “Derek, I am not your enemy.”

The fox stretches a slow smile across Derek’s lips, flicks the flame and stares at it. “He seems to think otherwise,” it hums. “Yeah. He is so angry at you for threatening to shoot Stiles. When we think of your gun to his head,” it trails off, shuddering. 

“I wouldn’t have shot him,” he protests. But, he knows it is a lie. The Nogitsune gives him a look, as though waiting for the truth. When it brings the light closer, he amends, “I wouldn’t have killed him.”

“You couldn’t have killed him.”

He looks away. He didn’t want to hear that, but he had suspected it nonetheless. Losing hope is dangerous, so he chooses to pretend he did not hear it. The Nogitsune is a trickster, it knows exactly what to say. All he can do is ignore it. 

Something in him hurts to, in Derek’s mind, be held in the same regard as Kate. The Nogitsune is picking at scabbed-over wounds, but that one is still fresh. A mark still branded on his name. He knows there is nothing he could say. Because while it may not be all Argents, it has been enough of them. 

It snaps the lighter shut, pocketing it. “I think we should wait until Allison gets home. We want her to watch while you burn.”

He tries for levity. “I know you are angry with me. But, this isn’t you, Derek. This isn’t—”

“Isn’t it?”

The fox pushes to stand, paces in quick steps across from him. “He wants to know why we shouldn’t kill you.” It turns to look at him. “After all, how many of us would you say you’ve killed, Chris? Hmm? How about a ballpark number?”

He presses his lips shut, as close to ashamed as he can get for actions he knows, deep down, were justified. 

“You’re not our ally, you’re a Hunter.”

“I’m not a killer.”

It continues as though he hasn’t spoken. “ _You’re_ the monster, not us.”

“We’re all monsters to someone.”

It laughs. “Oh, please. You are not nearly as clever as you think you are.”

He sighs. “Derek, listen to me. I know you know I can get out of this chair. But I haven’t.” He brings his voice down lower, softer, more serious. “I am not a killer, I don’t want to have to hurt you.”

“You may not be a killer, but I am.”

“You aren’t,” he insists. “You’re just a kid.”

It blinks at that, expression going a little uncertain, step faltering slightly. 

Chris thinks he knows what he has to say. What he needs to say. “I’m sorry,” he offers. “I am sorry for what happened to your family, Derek. I am sorry that my name is attached to the worst moments of your life. I am, okay?”

He takes a deep breath, ready to die for his next words if he has to. “If you kill me, if you hurt Allison, you won’t feel better. I know you think you will, but you won’t.” He waits a beat. “You will feel like her.”

He allows his body to go slack, drains himself of the fear. “You are not my enemy anymore, Derek. And I am not yours.”

It deflates a little, takes a small step back. He watches carefully as it blinks hard and shakes its head. He thinks he can see more of Derek breaking through, cracking the surface. That’s what he needs, to break the fox down until only Derek is left behind. He begins forming a plan. He isn’t afraid, he just needs to buy himself more time. 

He evaluates what he knows. “How do you think Stiles would feel if you killed me? If you killed Allison?” 

It frowns at him. 

“The only person Stiles cares about more than his dad is Scott. How do you think he’d feel if you took Allison from Scott?”

“Scott and Allison aren’t together.”

“Neither are you and Stiles, but you would still care if he died, wouldn’t you?”

He can tell by the unhappy twist of Derek’s mouth that he has struck a nerve. 

“Or maybe you wouldn’t care if he died. Maybe, as soon as I am out of here, I will go find him and put a bullet right into his—”

Derek lunges at him and Chris levers himself backwards as hard as he can, the wooden chair splintering beneath him at the impact. He has his hand on his gun as quickly as he can get it there, pressing the barrel into Derek’s throat as the other man rests his claws at Chris’ sides, pinpricks digging in through his shirt. It seems as though they are at an impasse. 

He pushes the barrel deeper. “Wake up, Derek.” He presses harder. “Wake the fuck up.”

The ‘wolf’s claws sink further, hurting without breaking the skin. Chris grits his teeth together. “If I have to kill you, I am going to kill Stiles next. So wake the fuck up, Derek.” He raises his voice, demands it again. “Wake up, Derek!”

Derek blinks, blue irises fizzling out until they are green. Until they are just sad and tired and afraid. He inhales shakily, stepping away from Chris and retracting his claws. “I could have killed you,” he says quietly, squinting at Chris as though he cannot believe it. 

“You aren’t a killer,” Chris repeats.

“You could have killed me,” he tries. 

“I’m not your enemy.”

Derek blows out a breath, but says nothing to that. “We need to find Stiles. If the Nogitsune could do something like this then—”

Chris holsters his gun, leveling Derek with a look. “If it could do something like this, then it is stronger than ever.”

He watches as Derek mulls that over, thinks about what he’s saying. He steps into the elevator and Chris waits for the realization to dawn. Derek looks up, almost helpless. “Which means he will be coming for us.”

Chris doesn’t reply, waits until the elevator clicks shut before he heads to his bathroom, ready to wash off the slick feeling of having almost died.  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> be my friend on [tumblr](https://iminsatiable.tumblr.com/)


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